


Slipping Away

by Lionsmane121



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: AU, Dark Magic, F/M, Gen, Insanity, Post Awakening, this has henrobin in it but it won't be the focus of the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionsmane121/pseuds/Lionsmane121
Summary: Robin sacrificed herself to end Grima, leaving her husband and her son shattered. But when one of Henry's curses backfire and scramble his brain, who's left to pick up the pieces?
Relationships: Henry/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	1. The End

He watched with a shudder as she made her decision. There she stood, the love of his life, standing on the scale of a giant, magnificent beast, taking a sword from the exalt. The events that were to come clicked into place in his mind and were rejected vehemently. 

“You’re joking, right?” Henry spoke. 

Robin just looked at him sadly, yet distant. She mumbled something to Chrom before stepping a few feet closer to her husband to say a proper goodbye. 

“Henry…” she began, not really knowing what to follow up with. Despite her brilliant mind, she was drawing a blank. A pause. 

“I need to do this.”

“Just DYING to die, aren't ya! Yeah, well over my dead body! My bloody, crumpled corpse... All bruised and broken... Mmm...” He trailed off, mind drifting into gory fantasies. 

Robin brought him back with a gentle touch. Henry’s eyes fell downwards as his wife’s hand reached for his own. Pulling it up, she put a balled up fist in his open palm, dropping something small and metallic. 

“I want you to keep this safe.”

Henry stared hard at the object in his hand, brows furrowing. 

“Your wedding ring?”

Robin nodded solemnly. 

“Robin, what about our vows? ‘Til death do us part… you’re supposed to actually die before the marriage is over.”

Robin gulped hard and tried not to look guilty. 

“I’m coming back for it, don’t worry.” She offered with a dry smile. She didn’t believe her own words. Before he could respond, she leaned in, brushing away his bangs to give him a kiss on his forehead. 

“I love you.” She whispered. 

“I love you, too.” He replied, watching her turn away from him, marching towards her fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading! These first few chapters are going to be short just to establish the events, I hope you all don't mind.


	2. Disparition

The Fell Dragon Grima had been defeated. Most of the shepherds remained on its fresh corpse, but one was missing. 

Everyone was happy that the war was over but the mood was somber. Henry had a wide radius around him, where he sat on his knees, grasping at the place where Robin should have been.

This wasn’t fair. Losing things was Henry’s specialty; he was supposed to be desensitized to it by now. His mind had been shattered years ago, right? Then why did this hurt so much?

She loved him to death, and now he was dying.


	3. Shattered

News of the end of the war had yet to reach Ylisse, so for the night everyone had returned to their respective tents in preparation of the march tomorrow. Two tents, however, remained empty.

Morgan, red eyed and puffy faced, walked to his father’s tent in hopes of finding someone to console him. When he opened the flap, however, a single crow flew out, leaving the tent devoid of life. While he had not planned for it, it didn’t seem unusual. Henry was pretty distraught, and he may have gone somewhere else to cope.

Morgan began to walk around the perimeter of camp in search of his father. When that failed, he trotted into the woods, calling out. Morgan walked for a long time, winding himself deep in the maws of the woods, hoping for a flash of silver hair in the distance.

The young tactician wandered for so long that the sun began to set in the distance. With dusk upon him, he was pressed to find either his father or camp.

Thinking on it, he prioritized finding Henry. If he was upset, he shouldn’t be alone, especially not at night. Morgan’s tears may have dried while walking, but he figured his father’s were still pouring. He walked further, mouth pressed tight; he knew all too well what it felt like to be left alone when you needed someone most, and he wouldn’t allow his father to feel that way. Not if he could help it.

A few more minutes passed and Morgan came to a clearing over a cliff. Birds littered the area, cawing and flapping and causing a ruckus.

Morgan would recognize those birds anywhere.

“Father!” Morgan cried out, running up to a figure in the distance, birds parting as he did. Henry was turned away, focused on something on the ground in front of him. Morgan took this opportunity to wrap his arms around Henry, hugging him from behind.

“Woah! Could it be..?” Henry sung.

“Yes, father! I found you!” Morgan cheered, burying his face in the familiar black cloth of his father’s cape.

“A risen finger! I’ve never seen one this color before! Today must be my lucky day!” Henry bent down to pick it up, shaking Morgan off. Morgan released his grip and stepped back, allowing the motion.

“Father, now’s not the time for jokes! I was seriously concerned for you.” He said, placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder.

“Well would you look at that, either someone’s trying to get my attention or I just grew a third hand. I hope it’s the latter!” Henry swung around to face Morgan. Realization set in, and Morgan’s eyes grew wide in horror at the sight in front of him.

“Hello there! What’s your name? Mine’s Henry!” He bellowed out with a laugh.

“Father… your eye…”

“Actually I have two of them.” Henry stated, sticking two fingers in the air to emphasize the number, before making them hop around like a bunny.

“No, your right eye… it’s strange…” Morgan lifted his hand to graze the tips of his fingers against the flesh around Henry’s eye. His iris was gone completely, his sclera extremely bloodshot, and his veins had turned black. He traced the dark lines that branched out over his cheek and eyelid. Henry turned serious, looking at his son with an intense stare.

“Be honest with me… does it look cool?”

Morgan stopped his examination to give him an exasperated look.

“It looks dangerous. What were you doing before I got here?”

Henry looked up and to the corner, searching his mind for answers.

“What was I doing…?” He began to tap his chin with the finger he picked up earlier. Morgan’s nose scrunched up in disgust. He paused, deep in thought, before finally speaking.

“I was looking for my birdie.”

Something in Morgan gave way and he huffed.

“Father, there’s plenty of birds around here! Why do you keep acting so strange?”

Henry pouted. “Not those ones, _my_ birdie. It’s different.”

Morgan grew impatient. “Father, there’s something seriously wrong with you. You need to come back to camp with me.”

Henry stared at him curiously with glossy eyes. “Hey… why do you keep calling me father? I told you my name, didn’t I?”

Morgan just stared back, dumbfounded.

“Hey… I just realized you never told me your name. I’m not going anywhere with you until you do. Stranger danger, you know?”

Morgan paused in disbelief.

“Do you seriously not recognize me?” Morgan asked sadly.

“No… am I supposed to?”

Morgan furrowed his brow and cast his gaze downwards. This was not his father. He wondered if maybe he dealt with grief differently than everyone else, but no amount of grieving could explain the way Henry was behaving. 

“Something’s really wrong… oh father, what did you do to yourself this time?”

Henry cocked his head quizzically. Morgan sighed resignedly and offered his hand. He decided he needed to take Henry to see a healer at once, and strange as he might be, it was Morgan's responsibility to make sure Henry was okay. 

“My name’s Morgan, by the way.”

Henry took it with a smile.

“Morgan, huh? That’s a nice name. I might use that one day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, Henry's really fun to write like this but it's difficult to make his conversations feel natural. Buuuut if I tried to make it perfect, it would never end up finished, so I'm going to just keep posting and one day polish up the story. Thanks for sticking with me!


	4. A Different Kind Of Wound

“Libra! I need your help!” Morgan cried out as he encroached on the fringe of camp, dragging a dumbfounded Henry behind him. He had stopped to look at something behind him as Morgan continued forward, desperate to reach the healing tent. Morgan tugged Henry’s arm like a dog on a leash, causing the man to stumble forward.

It had been hours since he had originally left camp in search of his father, and darkness had settled over the land. It was already difficult to find his way through the woods, and it was magnitudes harder dragging a bumbling mage behind him. Sleep tugged at his eyes and his aching body begged to lay down, but Morgan could not stop, not when his father needed him. 

“Gods, what happened to you two?” Libra asked as he rushed over to offer assistance. 

He had been stationed on the east side of camp as watch but had only seen Morgan push through the thicket of the woods moments ago, coming into the warm yellow light of the torches spread through camp. Libra grabbed a hold of Henry’s arm, gently guiding him over to the empty healer’s tent. 

“I don’t know, I found him like this.” Morgan answered. 

“Oh hi Libra!” Henry spoke up, now facing the man. “Say, you’re a priest, right? This kid keeps asking for a ‘father’, I figured he might be looking for you.” 

Morgan sighed and rolled his eyes. “You say that as if  _ you  _ were the one leading  _ me  _ to camp, and not the other way around.”

Henry smiled in response. “I may not have been the leader, but at least I kept you company. Otherwise it would have been dead quiet! Nyahaha!” 

“How dreadful.” Morgan replied in a sarcastic tone, but Henry didn’t notice over the sound of his own laughter. 

Concern drew lines in Libra’s face as he watched the bizarre interaction play out. 

“Henry, let’s get you examined.”

Libra guided Henry to sit on the examination table in the healing tent. Henry went surprisingly cooperatively, hopping up on the surface and dangling his feet back and forth as idle entertainment. 

“Ooh, are you going to poke and prod me? I like to do that to risen. Sometimes, if I’m really lucky, they pop! Do you think I’ll pop too?” 

“No, Henry, I don’t think you’ll be doing that anytime soon. At least I should hope not.” He replied calmly, lifting Henry’s arm up, one at a time, and checking for wounds. Libra grazed his hands over Henry’s torso, feeling for any obvious cuts or wounds. Henry squirmed.

“Does that hurt?” He asked, pressing down over his organs.

“Nope! But it does tickle, teehee!” Henry burst out in a fit of giggles, pulling away from Libra. As he went back in to continue his examination, Henry wriggled and writhed more, swatting away his hands.    
  
“Henry, please. Sit still. I need to finish this-” He was cut off by Henry attacking him with tickles, squealing with glee.

Libra jumped out of his skin, making a noise he was not proud of. He pushed Henry away from him at mach speed without thinking. As he tumbled back, landing awkwardly on the examination table, Libra stood in shock with wide eyes. He was already wildly uncomfortable with being touched, but this was on another level. He was mortified. He gave up on trying to search Henry for anything, his body was clearly fine, and though his eye was off color, it appeared to work just fine. 

Straightening his back and adjusting his disheveled clothing, Libra cleared his throat. 

“I believe the examination is over.”

“Yay! I win!” Henry cheered. 

Libra shot Morgan a disbelieving look, and Morgan gave him a tired nod. A moment of solidarity. 

Leading him aside, Libra gave Morgan old news.    
  
“It appears nothing is wrong with him... physically. I don’t believe there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Morgan’s eyes dulled, and Libra could see it. He gave out a small resigned sigh. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t handle his father like this. He knew he had a responsibility to him, but was this really something he could do alone? If only Robin were here, she would know what to do….

Robin. 

Just the thought was agonizing to him. 

He could never match up to her; she was the greatest tactician to ever live. Her mind was greater than all of theirs combined. How was he supposed to do this without her? Maybe if he had been a better son and paid closer attention to her lessons, he would know what to do. If she were here, he would spend every waking moment with her, listen to every word she said, take note of everything. He would have been the best son she could ever have.  _ Oh, mother _ , he thought,  _ I miss you so much. _

Morgan was brought out of his lament by his father in the background, dipping his fingers into different vulneraries and taste testing them. One in particular made his face scrunch up. This made him giggle and he went to stick his finger in again. Morgan made no move to stop him. 

Unfocusing on Henry, Morgan’s attention drifted over to Libra, who spoke up once more.

“ _ I  _ may not be able to do anything for you... but perhaps my wife can.”

  
_That’s right…_ Morgan realized, Libra had married the only other dark mage in camp; if anyone knew the kind of magic Henry had scrambled his brain with, it would be her. 

“How soon can we see her? Can you take me to her right now?” Morgan asked eagerly. This was his only lead and he wanted to pounce on it. 

“Absolutely.” 


	5. To Have Loved And Lost

“Hm…” Tharja tapped a finger to her lips. “I know what happened.”

“Really?” Morgan perked up, excitement filling his voice. 

Tharja looked at him with disinterested eyes, having only spared a moment before to look into Henry’s deranged eye, making the diagnosis within seconds. She stepped back, putting distance between her and the absent minded man. 

“Losing Robin took a toll on him, and he wasn’t able to take it. It happens quite often, actually.” Tharja explained. 

“What do you mean?” Morgan asked, puzzled. 

“An anti-love potion. The simple minded fool couldn’t handle Robin’s death so he took matters into his own hands.” 

“I don’t understand. What’s an anti-love potion? Why would he do that? And why would that make him the way he is now?” Morgan demanded in a whiny, panicked tone.

“To start with, an anti-love potion is actually a modified memory potion; It makes you forget your beloved. I see it all the time. Some numbskull gets his heart broken and takes it to make the pain go away.”

“My skull’s kind of numb.” Henry interrupted. 

Tharja ignored him and continued. 

“He didn’t treasure Robin like I did…” she trailed off. “The deadbeat.” She mumbled venomously under her breath. “He was probably overwhelmed with emotion and messed it up, then took it without noticing.” She allowed it to sink in for a moment, seeing emotion swirl behind Morgan’s eyes. But it didn’t. How could it?

Libra expanded on his wife’s thought, “Think about it, Morgan. He’s never handled death like a normal person.”

Morgan looked utterly betrayed. How could this be true? This wasn’t like his father; He loved his mother above all else. He utterly worshipped her. Yes, perhaps he handled death differently, but he had never done something like this before. Morgan searched his mind frantically for a rebuttal of some kind; some foothold for an argument that would prove his father innocent.

“I don’t get it. He was an excellent dark mage? How could he slip up like that with his skill level?” he pleaded. 

Tharja sighed, not wanting to fight this out. She had no interest in helping the man that stole her precious Robin away, but she did anyways because it’s what Robin would have wanted. 

“Morgan, the thing that sets dark magic and elemental magic apart is that elemental is based off knowledge; dark magic pulls from emotion. The thing that made Henry such a good dark mage was his strict control of emotions. Ever wondered why he’s always smiling?”

Morgan mulled this over, chewing it like taffy. Was it really possible his father finally cracked, that his mother’s love endangered him? He imagined his father alone in the forest that day, smile faded and gone for the first time, shakily making a potion. It broke his heart in more ways than one. If it were true… Henry betrayed not just Robin, but him as well. 

Libra tried to console Morgan. “He wasn’t in his right mind.”

“It’s not true! It can’t be…” Morgan found himself raising his voice. It felt like an insult. 

“I think you should both retire to your tents. We should all rest up.” Libra suggested calmly, put the conversation to rest. “We are all very tired and we’re not going to make much headway in this condition.” 

Morgan nodded solemnly, numbly. There’s no way it was true, but he would have his answers in the morning.

“I guess you’re right.” 

Something in Morgan’s heart gave way; his voice getting really quiet in response.

“Come on, Henry. Let’s go to bed.” 


	6. Fellow Feeling

Henry awoke in a field. There was nothing around him, just miles of golden wheat and a setting sun. And then there wasn’t.

“My love,” rang out a melodic voice behind him. Henry turned around.

There stood a beautiful woman with white pigtails and deep brown eyes. She looked sad in a way that he couldn’t quite place, though she wore a comforting smile. He smiled back, but he wasn’t sure why. Then again, he always smiled. 

“I don’t have much time to explain, listen to me carefully.” She pleaded. She was calm and yet he could feel that she was anxious. It was in her eyes. Her deep brown eyes, warm and earthy. There was something that lurked just beneath, but there was something that pooled just above as well. 

Tears. 

“I became the universe, Henry.” 

Is that what was hiding behind her eyes? Stars? The incandescent glow of a million galaxies, light years away? No.

That was the sky. 

Henry watched the colors above him molt, turning purple and navy, with freckles of light sprinkled about. 

Was she the sky now? No, she was still in front of him. He looked at her.

“I have seen into everything, and I have seen that you and I will meet in every lifetime.”

She must see a lot with her pretty eyes, a rich dark brown that matched the bark of the trees. Except there were no trees around, only wheat. 

“I’m coming back, I promise.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. 

Coming back where? Where were they, even?

“Wait for me.”

She kissed him, and he felt the surface of the dream unravel. He looked into her eyes one last time before closing his own, thinking about how shiny they were and how much he would like to keep them for himself. 

And then, where the warmth of her body should have been, he was met with emptiness. A cold, harsh, lack of matter that brushed up against him, and he was falling.

Falling into a void. 

When he opened his eyes again, he saw nothing but a color darker than black. Darker than the corners of the universe, deeper than her eyes.

He felt something catch his arm, and his leg, and then all of his limbs. His entire body was met with thin lines of pain. 

And his falling slowed as he got caught in a tangle of wires, knotting around him as he struggled to get free. He was in a place he shouldn’t be, and now he was trapped. He writhed in place, trying to shake them off, but they held him tight, constricting him. 

More and more wires slithered around him, taking hold of his throat, strangling every thought out of him. He was claustrophobic; never had been until now. He was fading, his body no longer able to struggle against the bind, his mind no longer able to work, his consciousness no longer able to stay. One last thought fluttered around his mind as he drifted off into another type of blackness.

“I love you.”

And then the wires snapped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried, for I didn't think it could be true  
> That you and I might have always known one another  
> And that we could not only evoke, but conjure a place of our own  
> And everywhere, that has ever existed  
> Is all on the surface of our dream  
> Now please, hear what I hear
> 
> Let me explain


	7. Searching For The Caws

“Ricken, please. He needs you.” Morgan pleaded.

“I would help him, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I mean, I don’t know anything about dark magic. The last time he tried to show me, I almost died!” Ricken explained. 

“You don’t have to DO dark magic, just… there has to be another way.” The young tactician was begging now, arms outstretched. 

Ricken listened halfheartedly, anxious to return to his wife. Morgan was doing everything in his power to keep him there, but it wasn’t working well. He had made the mistake of telling him Tharja’s diagnosis, and Ricken had accepted it all too quickly. He had thought for one of Henry’s closest friends, he would think the same way Morgan did, but he apparently had more confidence in Tharja than he thought. None of this was going how he planned;  _ some tactician I am,  _ he berated.

“I really have to get going.” Ricken excused himself. He turned in the direction of his tent, taking a step forward.

“Wait…! I have proof.” Morgan yelled.

Ricken turned back around, cocking an eyebrow. Yes... He had his foot in the door. 

“Last night… Henry was tossing and turning.” He started. Ricken gave him a look as if to say “ _ not my problem” _ . He continued under Ricken’s scrupulous stare. “He kept calling out for Robin in his sleep. Tell me how he would remember her name if he took a memory erasing potion?”

Ricken brought up a contemplative finger to his mouth. 

“I suppose that wouldn’t be possible.”

“Exactly!” Morgan exclaimed, so happy he could cry. It finally felt like someone was listening to him.

“We have to get to the bottom of this; I know for a fact that my father loved my mother, and I won’t sit around and watch him be accused doing something so awful! So please… help me find out what really happened to him.” Morgan begged. 

Ricken gave in. As tricky as Henry was to understand, he knew him better than this. Besides, Henry had saved his life many times before on the battlefield; he figured it was time to repay the favor. 

“Okay, I’ll help you. But where do we start?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem.” Morgan lamented, eyes dropping. “That’s why I came to you.”

Ricken thought for a minute, chewing his lip as he formulated a plan.

“You said you found him in the forest surrounded by crows?” Ricken asked.

Morgan nodded.

“I have an idea. Give me a day to work on something. Meet me tomorrow at noon by the healer’s tent. I want you to bring me exactly where you found him, okay?”

Morgan nodded again, eager for his answers. 

…

The day had wound away slowly, as if time itself was fighting to stave off the next day. Morgan had walked around aimlessly until his legs could not hold him any longer. He went to bed tired but not sleepy; he tossed and turned all night as his father lay still on a cot across from him. The early hours of the morning taunted him as he stared up at the dark canvas ceiling of their shared tent. Worry had set in on his face, leaving wrinkles and bags that weren’t being worked out by sleep, and a numb headache that had started days ago left a dull pressure in his skull that could not be eased by rest. 

He looked over at Henry; despite the nuisance that he was during the day, he looked so peaceful at night. Oh, how he wished he could treat Henry as a father. He had noticed at some point how harshly he commanded him, how he instructed him like a toddler, how rude he was when he grew tired of his antics. That’s not how a son should treat his father. That’s not what a family is. 

He longed to be kind to him, the way he deserved to be treated. But the way that Henry was in this state grated on him in a way he wasn’t used to, and he felt like there was no other way to keep a handle on him.    
  
Morgan made a silent promise to himself to be kinder tomorrow than he was yesterday and fell into a dreamless sleep.    
  
…

Morning rolled around and Morgan woke up groggy eyed and cranky. He conjured a small sundial spell his mother had taught him and saw that it was nearly noon. Panicking, he threw on his coat and turned to his father… who wasn’t in his cot.    
  
Oh no. Oh no no no… not good. 

Morgan lifted up the blanket on the cot as if Henry would magically appear. He tossed the pillow aside, realizing he was going to have to go out and find Henry, and quickly. Thrashing the flaps of his tent aside, Morgan rushed out, glancing around him quickly to see if Henry was within sight.    
  
No luck. 

Morgan picked a direction and ran. He narrowly avoided several bodies as he rushed through camp calling out for his father. Frederick stepped out into morgan’s path carrying a bundle of wood and Morgan slammed into him in his frenzy. Morgan bounced off Frederick, almost toppling over but managing to regain his balance and steady himself. He had, however positioned his stance over Frederick’s, effectively catching his foot as he moved to take his next step, causing him to topple over.    
  
“Sorry, sorry! Are you okay? Have you seen Henry? Nevermind, gotta go!” Morgan spilled out, speaking faster than Frederick could keep up with before he launched back into a sprint, flashing him an apologetic smile and a small wave. Frederick sat up in a daze, the answers now coming to mind as he processed them, but with no one to offer them.   
  
Morgan plowed forward, calling out Henry’s name. 

“I’m right here, silly!”

Morgan screeched to a halt in front of the healer’s tent. He turned around and was met with a smiling face.

Henry offered him a mischievous grin. As Morgan processed this information, he pushed down his irritation in favor of his gratefulness. 

What a relief that he was here and not anywhere else; Not only was he where he needed to be, but he wasn’t making trouble either. At least, not that he could see.   
  
“Henry! Why are you here?” He asked, rather stupidly, now that he thought about it. As if Henry would give any coherent answers.    
  
“Why not?” He offered with a giggle.    
  
“It doesn’t matter why he’s here,” Ricken stepped into the scene, “All that matters is that we’re all here.” He stated. 

“You’re right.” Morgan agreed. 

Ricken smiled with a nod. “Are we ready to go then?”

Morgan nodded, “Yeah. Do you have everything?” 

Ricken slapped the tome he carried at his side with a grin. “Yup.”

Morgan felt his chest swell with hope as he grabbed his father’s hand. “Then let’s go.”

…

They reached the place where it had all began after walking for a while. They had to do a little guesswork to make up for Morgan finding Henry that day in the dark, but planted themselves down at that cliffside and got to work. 

“So what do you have planned?” Morgan asked as Ricken laid out his tome on a rock and flipped to a page with circles and symbols scribbled on it. 

“It took some digging, but I found a spell that allows the caster to speak to animals.” Ricken answered.    
  
Morgan stood in awe and confusion. A magical feat to be sure, but not one that he imagined putting to use in this scenario.    
  
“How is that going to help us?” he asked.   
  
“You said Henry was surrounded by crows when you found him, yes?” 

Morgan gasped as he made the connection in his mind. The crows had witnessed everything that day; if Henry couldn’t tell them what happened, they could. 

“Ricken, you’re a genius!” Morgan exclaimed. 

Ricken smiled sheepishly. 

“Thank you, but I haven’t solved your problem yet.” He said modestly, motioning to Henry who was sitting cross legged, mindlessly ripping up grass. 

Suddenly, Henry whipped his head around to look behind him in a frenzy. He appeared scared and changed his position from one of relaxation to defense. 

“Henry, what’s wrong?” Morgan called out. Henry looked back at him, his expression etched with paranoia. 

“I thought I saw something.” He replied. 

Now Morgan was scared too, as he was faced with two possibilities: one, his father had seen something horrible enough to fill even him with terror, and they were now trapped in the woods with, or two, he was having hallucinations, and could lash out with dark magic in schizophrenic fits. 

Morgan spoke, voice low and quiet, his mouth very dry now. 

“What… what did you see?”

Henry giggled, his expression relaxing. “A tree.” 

Morgan’s hand shot up to the bridge of his nose as the annoyance set in. 

“Henry, we’re in the middle of the woods!”

“That would explain it, then!” Henry said gleefully, with a little teehee at the end. 

Morgan, remembering his vow from the night before, turned his attention back to the matter at hand, deciding not to get too upset with Henry, focusing instead on what they had set out to do.

“So how does this work anyways?”

“Well,” Ricken began, “it’s a dark magic spell.” 

Morgan interrupted him. “I thought you couldn’t do dark magic?”

“I can’t.”

“Then how are we going to do this?  _ He _ certainly can’t.” Morgan motioned to his father who had taken to ripping the wings off a fly he had caught. 

Ricken placed his hand on Morgan’s outstretched arm, the one pointed at Henry, and lowered it with a smile. 

“We don’t have to.”

Morgan looked at him quizzically. 

Ricken stepped aside to showcase the tome splayed out behind him, to which Morgan responded by kneeling in front of the stone it was placed upon, skimming over the scrawling text. 

“It’s set up like a seance, where the animal speaks through the caster; a possession of sorts.” Ricken explained. “And that  _ would _ require dark magic. But there’s another way.” Ricken flipped the page. “In the event that you are trying to communicate with a parrot, the spell can be done so that the bird may speak for itself. You are just imparting human language unto the animal for the time being.” 

“I don’t understand. There are no parrots here?” 

“We don’t need them.” Ricken explained with a sly smile. “Crows have been known to talk.” 

Morgan looked up at him with a knowing smile, a murder beginning to form around Henry. 

…

The circles had been drawn, the sigils had been placed, and saliva and teeth had been arranged accordingly as Ricken summoned the power within him to fuel the spell. The crows squawked and beat their wings as the lines in the dirt began to glow and the earth vibrated with energy. Henry’s face lit up as he witnessed the lightshow and he clapped joyfully. Morgan and Ricken had placed the circle in front of Henry where a good portion of the crows stood. The letters of the alphabet burned into the ground as the power of language manifested itself into the minds of the crows within the circle. Each one would be able to speak for itself. 

Ricken, having to pour magical energy into the spell consistently for it to work reminded Morgan that they would only have a few minutes to conduct their interrogation before his mana drained. 

“And remember, they can only respond with one word!” He yelled, as he kept his glowing palms raised and aimed at the circle. 

“Okay!” Morgan responded, facing the birds and preparing himself for what was to come. And so he began with his first question.   
  
“Can you understand me?”

He bit his lip nervously, half expecting the birds to simply squawk in reply, considering how they had improvised and changed the spell. 

What came instead was a dissonance of scratchy voices, all answering with the same affirmative but in different ways. 

“Yes.” “Yeah.” “Yep.”

“Okay, good. Do you recognize Henry?” Morgan continued, motioning towards his father. 

“Henry.” “Yes.” “Friend.”

“Do you know what he was doing out here a few days ago?”

“Magic.” “Portal.” “Looking.”

“Magic… portal.. Looking?” Morgan glanced at Ricken who gave him a pained smile and shrugged as the weight of performing this spell pressed on him. 

“Just keep going. You don’t have much time.” Ricken told him. 

Morgan nodded. 

“What was he looking for?”

“Wife.” “Robin.”

Morgan’s eyes grew wide.  _ Mother? _ Hope swelled up inside him and he impatiently asked the next question, nearly cutting off the crows.

“W-where is she?” 

The crows were silent. Did they not know? Did he not find her? 

After a painful moment, one squawked up. 

“Nowhere.” 

Another one followed up, in an argumentative tone.

“Everywhere.”

“Nowhere!”

“Everywhere!”

Morgan’s mind bended as a cacophony of nowhere and everywhere rang out, causing even the crows outside of the spell’s radius to kick up a ruckus. 

And then all at once, in harmony, “Gone.” And the spell broke. 

The crows flew away, squawking and cawing off into the distance. 

Morgan looked to Ricken, who was just as defeated as he was. 

“I’m sorry Morgan…” 

Morgan’s eyes dropped. Gone. She was gone. 

She was gone. 

That’s when he noticed it; a crow tugging something out from behind a tree. It was struggling, so a second crow joined and grabbed hold. A few more came and pushed out what appeared to be an old tome, dirty and ragged. Morgan rushed over and picked it up, the crows looking up at him and cawing excitedly. 

“This must have been dad’s. He’s the only one who could have left it here.”

The spell didn’t work, but the crows still managed to give him a clue. 

Morgan flipped open the cover. 

Ancient dark magic.

Ricken wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and weakly walked over to look at the page. 

He couldn’t read a word of the dead language, but he knew who could. He gave Morgan a small smile.

“I don’t think the search is over yet.”


	8. Decryption

“Miriel!” Morgan cried out, running towards camp. “Miriel!! You have to help us!!” 

Ricken followed behind the boy, running as fast as he could, tripping over twigs and branches along the way. The two of them had made their way over to the part of camp where Miriel could usually be found doing her tests. 

They approached a figure in the distance wearing a large hat.

“Cease your wailing at once.”

The two boys stopped in their tracks as the figure turned to face them. It was Miriel, wearing a rather displeased expression. 

“I assume whatever you want is important, but please, for the love of the gods, keep it down. Can’t you see you’re interfering with my experiment?” she scolded. 

Both Ricken and Morgan leaned to the side to get a better look at the experiment behind their senior; a handful of plants in various pots and a mess of tuning forks splayed about, some on stands.

“I’m testing the effect of different frequencies on the rate of plant growth, and your mindless hollering is skewing the results.”

The two mages looked ashamed, a light blush tinting Ricken’s face as he looked downwards. 

“Sorry, Miriel.” Morgan apologized. Miriel brought a finger up to her mouth to signal silence.

In a whisper, she spoke. “Mind your volume, please.”

Morgan lowered his voice to match hers and tried again. “Sorry.”

Miriel seemed appeased, at least for the time being. 

“It’s just that… we need some help with Henry, and you’re the only one smart enough to help us.”

Miriel looked perplexed. What could she possibly help these boys with?

Ricken sheepishly held out the old tome, showing it to her. “We found this in the woods, not long ago. We believe it may have belonged to Henry.”

“My goodness,” Miriel exclaimed, taking the book gently, as it had become fragile with age. She flipped open the cover and raised her eyebrows at what she saw before her. “Where would he ever get something like this?”

“We don’t know, but we were hoping you could decipher it.” 

Miriel stared at the book for a moment, flipping through a few pages. The entire thing was written in latin. She figured it would take a while just to even make a dent in a book this large. 

“I don’t know… this tome is so thick it could take me years to translate it all. I don’t know that either of us has that much time to spare.” Miriel said. Loathe as she might be to say it, she’s not the one who’s pressed for time here. “I don’t know that I could help you find the answers you’re looking for. I’m deeply sorry.”

“No,” Morgan said, not just with his mouth, but with his expression, his body language, with his very being. “I can’t accept that. There must be a way,” fists clenched at his side, “some kind of clue or something that father left behind. A folded corner, a dirty smudge, a drop of blood… anything. Anything that he left behind that could help us…” He shut his eyes. “That could help us find mom.” 

Miriel just looked at him pitifully. She knew as well as he did that this book was centuries old; it had folds and tears and stains on every page. There’s no way they could pinpoint what page Henry was on. She was at a loss for what to do.

Suddenly, a presence came slinking out of the shadows of the brush. 

“If you’re looking for something, why don’t you just find it? Nyahaha!”

Henry surprised Morgan coming from behind. And he managed to infuriate him as well.

Of all the things to say…

Morgan clenched his fists a little harder. 

“I don’t know, father, why don’t you just find mom?” Morgan blurted, face tinged with heat. Henry stared at him for a moment, gears turning. He knew he had touched a nerve, and Morgan thought he could almost see regret in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, that was the wrong thing to say.” Henry apologized, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Morgan looked at him with doubtful hope, eyes tired and downturned, but attentive. Henry seemed more cognizant than usual. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless. 

“I’ll help you find your mom, kiddo. Just tell me what she looks like.” Henry offered, his helpful nature shining through. 

Morgan brushed Henry’s hand off his shoulder.

“You’re no help.” He turned his back to him. Despite the kind and cheerful nature of the offer, it was a painful reminder of their situation, and in fact it got in the way of their search, as Morgan’s mind couldn’t function whilst his thoughts were occupied by grief. “Just be quiet for now.” 

Henry’s mouth pressed into a thin lipped smile. 

The silence was heavy. 

“Wait,” Ricken spoke up. “Maybe he’s on to something.” He had everyone’s attention now. Ricken felt a little nervous under their stares, but continued. “If you’re looking for something, why don’t you just find it? Maybe Henry had a spell in that book to magically find things! Some kind of looking glass, or all seeing eye? You know Henry, he loves eyeballs.”

Morgan chewed on the tip of his thumb. “That is true…”

Miriel rushed to her tent to grab a small book and returned, flipping to a couple pages. “All seeing eye… Universus… Visendus.. Oculus…” she muttered, pulling out the book of spells and flipping to its table of contents. 

“Um… what are you doing?” Morgan prodded.

Miriel replied without looking up. “Looking for keywords.” 

“So you’re going to help us?” Morgan asked.

“In any way that I can. Within reason, of course.” Her fingers danced along the pages, moving up and down methodically. “T’would be cruel of me to turn down someone in your situation. I do not envy you at all.”

Morgan relaxed.

“Ahah!” Miriel smirked. She flipped to a page roughly halfway through the tome and started reading. Morgan and Ricken stared intensely at Miriel, suspense building within them. She found something, though they weren’t sure what. They waited patiently for her while she bounced back and forth between books, occasionally sharing looks. 

After a few minutes of mumbling, flipping pages, and scrunching her brows, Miriel released herself from her work. 

“I believe this is it. It’s a spell that allows a user to locate any object and opens a portal to it.” 

Morgan thought for a moment; if mother truly was dead, loathe as he is to even entertain the possibility, where would that portal lead? Would it just not work, is that why it backfired? Or did it lead father into unspeakable places…? 

Morgan perished the thought, not being able to answer that question. 

“Henry,” he asked, turning to face his father, “Do you remember anything about this?” but was met with absence. He looked around a little bit, rousing the other two mages and prompting them to swivel their heads about. “...Henry?”

Gods above, he muttered under his breath. Henry had slinked away as silently as he came while they were distracted. He berated himself for a moment before launching into action.

“Ricken, stay here and look for him in camp, I’m going to go searching through the woods.” 

Ricken nodded, turning tail and running to the center of camp frantically. Morgan took a less hurried approach and began walking through the thicket, calling out for his father every now and then. This was going to be grueling, he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda rushed with this chapter, but that's okay. Doesn't need to be perfect, just needs to be done. Before i forget this fic forever lol - i'd hate to leave it unfinished.


	9. Serendipity

He sees something in the distance. A figure, a silhouette of some kind. Just… laying in the grass. No… wheat. There was a difference. He was standing in a wheat field. 

Henry wandered over to it. It was a woman. A pretty woman, he thought. He felt all weird inside of him, like butterflies were in his stomach, except they felt more like spiders. He squatted at her side, inspecting her like he would a corpse, completely enraptured. 

She had long white hair pulled up into two pigtails that splayed out on the earth beneath her, and she wore dark purple robes, the same hue as his own outfit. She was a real beauty by plegian standards. And he was plegian, he remembered, 

She looked alive but she acted dead. He was considering grabbing a stick to poke her with, but he hadn’t been in the forest for a while now, and there was nothing in this field besides wheat. 

“Hey lady, you awake?” He asked.

She stirred, her face scrunching slightly before opening her eyes a sliver. A confused noise came from her throat as she slowly awoke. 

She looked at him, and he looked at her. Specifically he looked at her eyes. He had seen this color before; Brown, like rich soil, like the dead branches of trees in October, and deer that leap away when you spot them. A deep, rich brown, rimmed with golden sunlight. It reminded him of the shiny things the crows would collect. The color of a dream. 

Her pupils dilated as her eyelids flitted open, fixing her gaze on him. She just looked for a minute, looked at him in warm silence. 

“Henry?” She asked, voice gentle as a breeze, corners of her mouth upturnt. 

“Nyaha, that’s me!” he laughed. 

He was leaning over her, honeyed sunlight pooling over his back, bathing her in his shadow, claiming her with his darkness. 

“Where am I?” she asked, gaze dancing around her environment.

“On the ground.” he answered, grin turning mischievous. 

“Same old Henry, I see.” She let out a snicker. 

“Hey, I’m not that old.” Henry retorted playfully, moving aside to allow her to sit up. She smiled at him as she sat up, supporting her weight with one hand. 

“You might as well be, you look like you’ve practically got one foot in the grave. What happened to your face, my love?” She reached out to caress his cheek. He closed his eyes as he felt her brush up against his skin. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew that he loved her, somehow. Maybe like some sixth sense? Or is that for ghosts only, he wondered. 

He felt electricity flow through the tips of her fingers as she dragged them across his flesh, energy flowing up his veins. It felt tingly and intense. 

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“A little bit.” he replied, thinking it was about the connection, the heat of the touch. 

“You poor thing.” she frowned. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

He didn’t understand exactly what she meant by that, but neither could she. 

The hold on his cheek fell down to his chin and became a gentle pull, a guidance. Her eyes were half lidded, cheeks rosy. 

“I’ll take care of you from now on. I promise.” 

She was closing in on him, and he was letting her. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her nose and lips before closing his eyes gently. 

“I love you.” she whispered against his lips, before closing the circuit. 

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.


	10. Autophobia

Morgan laid Henry down on the examination table in the healer’s tent. 

He had stumbled across a confused Robin and a convulsing Henry in the fields past the woods. Suffice to say, he was in shock when he found them.

Robin was in a panic. She had been trying to help him to no avail, until her son had arrived and was able to lift Henry up. 

Morgan had so many questions he wanted to ask, but guilt and worry clouded his mind. It was a silent walk back to camp. Solemn. 

There was a flurry of shepherds who flocked to the scene, all shocked to see Robin and concerned for her counterpart. She pushed past all the questions and concerns, her focus on medical attention. 

Lissa and Maribelle were at his side at a moment’s notice, staves at the ready. 

“Robin? You’re alive?” Lissa asked, bewildered.

“More or less. But he won’t be if we don’t act fast.” Robin answered, motioning towards the body laying on the table. 

Henry’s convulsions had not lessened up since they had begun. A froth formed at the corners of his mouth, sweat had plastered his hair to his face, and his eyes were rolled up into his head. Maribelle placed her hand on Henry’s forehead and gave Morgan a worried look. 

“He’s burning up.” She turned to Lissa. “Grab the vial.” She ordered. Lissa nodded and headed over to a cabinet, reaching inside. 

She brought over a small bottle with an eyedropper in it. An oily, yellow liquid sloshed around in the glass. She handed it over to Maribelle, who took it graciously and quickly turned to the writhing boy in front of her. She set it down, pulling out the dropper and holding it above Henry’s mouth. With one hand, she squeezed his jaw, causing his mouth to open, and with the other she dropped a few thick drops in. You could tell she was nervous despite her confident nature because her brows were furrowed.

Maribelle had always claimed that’s how a woman develops wrinkles, so she made a point never to do so. Apparently, she didn’t mind right now. 

Henry’s eyelids closed slowly as his head tilted to the side, and his whole body relaxed as his shaking slowed to an eventual stop. Maribelle motioned for a water bucket which Lissa lifted with two hands and waddled over to a nearby stool. Maribelle plunged her hands into the ice cold well water and pulled out an old rag, wringing it out. Her delicate fingers turned red from the temperature drop, but she said nothing as she dabbed the rag around Henry’s face.

“What was that?” Morgan asked.

“A sleeping elixir.” Maribelle replied, folding the rag now and laying it across Henry’s forehead, brushing his damp bangs away. “He’s asleep. Now we just have to get his temperature down.” 

Robin looked sadly upon the body that belonged to her lover. She stepped forward, corners of her mouth pulled into a frown. So much had happened all at once, too fast for her to keep up. It left her head spinning. She had been away for so long, kept from him, and as soon as they were reunited he was taken from her. How cruel a fate.

Fighting the watering of her eyes, she brought her hand to Henry’s face to stroke his cheek, damp and sticky as it may be. All she wanted right now was to hold him. As she did, however, Henry’s face scrunched up and he grunted in his sleep. The longer she held it there, the more she noticed the dark veins in his eye reaching out, slowly but steadily. Had that happened the first time? It moved so slowly she barely even noticed. As she stood there, hovering over his sleeping form, his even, shallow breaths quickened, his heartbeat picking up so intensely she could feel it pulsing beneath her fingertips. Henry let out a high pitched noise and suddenly Maribelle’s hand was holding hers, ripped away from the clammy skin of the dark mage. 

“You’re hurting him. I think it’s best you leave him alone for the time being.” Maribelle warned.

It was true, Henry returned to a peaceful state after the contact had been broken.

“I-I’m sorry.” Robin apologized, pulling her hand to her own body, holding it in her other hand now, as if it were injured. “I didn’t mean to.”

“What she means to say,” Lissa interjected with a nervous smile, “is that Henry needs to rest. You two can retire to your tents for the night, we’ll keep an eye on him.” 

Robin nodded numbly, and Morgan held open the flap to the tent for her to exit. He looked at her so deeply and so sadly as they stepped out into the chilly air of the night. Robin sniffed quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Morgan replied. He didn’t really know why he said that, but he didn’t have any other words at the moment. 

He looked down, not looking at anything in particular.

Robin wiped at the wetness in her eyes, trying to stay strong, but she noticed her son hiding behind his bangs and sniffling as well, and felt the dam break. Morgan fell into her arms, sobbing loudly, his crying muffled by her shoulder. She felt hot tears roll down her cheeks, leaving streaks of heat to clash with the coolness of the air, and she did not make any noise. She only stood there and held her son, held him so close and made sure not to let go, resting her head on top of his.

She swore never to let go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i literally cannot focus long enough to refine this so im posting with faith that this isnt a garbage fire <3 anyways thanks for reading as always


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